


Remembrance

by Qwae29



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, jinnobi challenge 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 07:43:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16445666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qwae29/pseuds/Qwae29
Summary: A Jedi dies, an old wound reopens, and Qui-Gon has an important decision to make.





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I always wanted to participate in a Jinnobi Challenge, but I’m always too late. This time, however, I managed to remember the challenge a whole 5 days before the deadline! Yay me! So, here is my 5-day fic for Jinnobi 2018!
> 
> A/N 2: Also, just to be safe I going to include possible trigger warnings vague, non-graphic references to past child abuse/molestation. And /…/ denotes mindspeak and there is shifting POV.
> 
> A/N 3: Oh, and this is my first time writing slash so… EEK!
> 
> Thanks: 
> 
> And as always, big thanks to my beta Maeve Pendergast! I couldn’t help tweaking a few things, so all mistakes are mine.

                                                                                   

 

            It was well after latemeal when we, tired and nearly dead on our feet, stumbled into our quarters. Qui-Gon entered first, dropping his travel bag absently by the door. Two long strides and he was already at the age-worn, large armchair, his favorite, taking of his boots and wiggling his now free toes with a sigh of satisfaction. I followed him as far as the threshold, taking the time to drop my bag next to his and removing my cloak to hang on one of the pegs by the door.

            “I don’t know which I want more, a scalding hot shower or to sleep for a week,” I said as I headed into the small kitchen area off the main room. Qui-Gon sank deeper into his chair, his head lolling back and his eyes closing.

            “Just be sure to choose this time. The last time you attempted both at the same time it led to… memorable results,” he commented. As he probably expected, the remark caused me to stick out my head from behind the kitchen’s half wall.

            “That only happened _one_ time and it was ages ago!”

            “In this instance, time has done nothing to dim the remembrance,” Qui-Gon chuckled just as I dropped a cold, wet dish towel unceremoniously on his head. He pulled the small cloth away to find his view full of my face, though the view was upside-down.

            “You are lucky that I love you, old man,” I mocked growled at him. Qui-Gon reached up with one hand, lightly grasping the nape of my neck and nipping playfully at my lower lip.

            “Imp,” he admonished between nibbles. If anything, my nascent grin grew wider.

            “Your imp,” I corrected with a quick kiss before pulling away and returning to the kitchen.

/ _And I thank the Force for that every day./_ he sent with a wave of soft affection. I returned the feeling happily and I could feel him basking in the simple serenity of being home and well-loved. I heard him rise from his seat, finally shedding his cloak and hanging it neatly beside mine. Then the door chimed.

            _/Are we expecting anyone, Master?/_

            _/Not I./_ Qui-Gon replied through our bond as he palmed the main door open.

            “Master Jinn?” a stranger hissed inquisitively.

            “I am he. How may I serve you, Knight…” Qui-Gon trailed off politely waiting for the knight to answer his unspoken question.

            “Vass’ha’ra(click)ssa,” she answered. “But many call me Vass.”

            “Please, come in, Knight Vass,” he said, and the other Jedi moved inside the apartment just as I stepped from around the half wall carrying a tray with a small pot of tea and three cups.

            “Knight Vass, this is my bondmate, Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan, this is Vass,” Qui-Gon said as he closed the door. I managed a formal bow despite the tray I carried.

            “Knight Vass, a pleasure. Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ve made tea,” I invited flashing my most charming grin. A fleeting glance to Qui-Gon revealed that he was smiling as well.

            _/You look like the cat who caught the canary./_

_/What can I say, a charming Obi-Wan is an enticing Obi-Wan./_

            Knight Vass made bow towards me then turned her red eyes towards the sitting area before quickly choosing the armchair and taking a seat. I shot Qui-Gon another quick glance as I stifled a laugh at the older man’s raised eyebrow.

            _/It’s a popular chair, Master./_

            _/Indeed./_ Qui-Gon replied wryly at me as he moved to take a seat on the sofa. I placed the tray on the low table, pouring out tea for three and ensuring both my former master and our guest had their tea before I took my seat beside Qui-Gon. Vass, a reptilian humanoid a full head shorter than my former master, sniffed at her tea with her large nostrils before darting out a thin, quick tongue for a taste. She held her tea cup in both hands as she turned her attention to us.

            “I apologize for disrupting your evening at such a late hour, but I heard you had recently arrived in Temple and I’ve also heard how often you are assigned out of the Temple, so I felt haste was the better option.” Vass drew out every ‘s’ sounding syllable so that her speech always seemed underscored by the sound of a slow leaking air valve.

            “Then perhaps you should tell me what has brought you here,” Qui-Gon replied after another sip of his tea. Vass nodded and sat her still full cup on the table. She interlaced her long talon like fingers atop her lap.

            “I returned from my assignment on Kett and went straight to the Temple’s convalescence center on Gecin in the hopes of speaking with my master one last time before he joined the Force. I was… too late,” she finished quietly, a slightly tightening of her hands further belying her distress.

            “The loss of one’s master, no matter the years, is a difficult pain to bear,” Qui-Gon spoke gently. Instinctively, and perhaps somewhat desperately, I placed my hand on his knee, but I never took my eyes off Vass.

            “You have our deepest sympathies,” I added softly. “Who was your master?”

            “Telran Drel,” Vass replied. “He…” she began but she was interrupted but the sudden sharp sound of ceramic fracturing under a too tight grip. Pieces of Qui-Gon’s cup flew in every direction. Tea and blood drip from his hand still hanging in the air.

            “Qui-Gon!” I exclaimed. The breaking cup surprised me, but it was the duracrete strength shields that slammed down on our bond that truly frightened me. The feeling was only made worse by the fact that Qui-Gon did not seem to even hear me.

            “Telran Drel,” Qui-Gon repeated, his voice low and colder than I had ever heard it. Vass blinked slowly, the thin membrane of her lids eclipsing the red orbs of her eyes, reducing them to thin slits and back again.

            “Qui-Gon, you’re bleeding,” I tried again. The older man blinked as if he were only now aware of my presence. I reached out and carefully turned his hand face up. Jagged, blood spattered shards of ceramic lay scattered across the wide plain of his palm, small rivers of blood running down the deep grooves, winding around and between hardened callouses before pouring off the sides in tiny waterfalls that fell in a nearly silent patter on to the carpet like rain.

            Qui-Gon stared down at his palm with a look of numb acceptance, but not quite seeming to register it. I went to the kitchen and returned with a wet dish towel. I began to gently clean the lacerations. Qui-Gon was quiet as I cleaned his wounds, but as I finished, he turned his head to me. He may have closed our bond but there was no way he missed the concern in my eyes. He didn’t speak or open the bond. He merely offered a slight shake of his head. He then turned to our guest who still sat quietly a few feet away.

            “Forgive me, Knight Vass. Your news came as quite a shock.”

            “It is I who must apologize, Master Jinn. Given my late master’s request of you, I should have anticipated your reaction and handled the delivery of his death with more care.”

            The knight’s remark, careful though it was, caused Qui-Gon’s body to tense noticeably to my eyes.

            “What request?” he asked with a noticeable diffidence in his voice that deeply disturbed me. Vass reached into the deep pockets of her cloak and pulled out a small datapad and a crisply folded and sealed piece of flimsi.  She held out the flimsi for Qui-Gon to take but he made no move to accept it. She glanced at me, the scales of her neck taking on a more iridescent hue then its previous mottled green, a sign among her species of uncertainty. Feeling rather uncertain myself, I stole a quick look to Qui-Gon before reaching out and taking the offering myself. Vass then turned back to Qui-Gon, holding the datapad to her chest. The coloring of her neck slowly returned to its deep green as she held still and exhaled with a slow hiss. I guessed that perhaps she was centering herself with a modified deep breathing technique.

            “My master… he had been ill for two years. Knowing he would soon join again with the Force, he prepared his last wishes,” she spoke, pausing then to look down at the pad at her chest. “He wished for you to speak his Remembrance at his memorial. It is scheduled for tomorrow at dusk.” At this she flashed her teeth again in what was likely a fond smile. A smile that quickly vanished when Qui-Gon spoke.

            “No.”

            “I…,” Vass started, blinking rapidly. “I don’t understand. This is a great honor, Master Jinn.”

            “No.” Stronger this time. Again, I laid a light touch on Qui-Gon’s knee.

            “Master…”

            “I said no!” Qui-Gon snapped jumping to his feet. I watched, stupefied, as my bondmate turn a cold gaze and an unreadable expression on the knight.

            “Knight Vass,” the master began coolly, “I recognize that you have suffered a great loss and I am sorry for it, but I cannot fulfill this… request. May the Force be with you.”

            Vass and I watched as Qui-Gon bent mildly, executing only the slightest hint of a bow before crossing the common space and disappearing into his bedroom. We both sat quietly for the span of several heartbeats before I shook my head, temporarily clearing the fog between my ears. I placed the flimsi letter I still held on to the low table.

            “I am sorry you did not get the answer you had hoped for, Knight Vass. I will talk to him, though I cannot promise his mind will change.” I paused and gave the knight a rueful smile. “He can be quite stubborn.”

            I wasn’t sure if my attempt at levity worked. I had always struggled with interpreting subtle body language cues in non-mammalian species, something I knew I needed to work on. For her part, Vass gave a quick click of her teeth and dipped her head.

            “I would appreciate any efforts you take in this regard, Knight Kenobi. I thank you,” she replied then she stood smoothing her robes with one hand and clutching the datapad tightly in the other.

            “May the Force be with you,” she said as she moved to the door. I rose and walked with her.

            “And with you,” I answered with a deep bow, one of equals. Without another word, the door slid open and Vass walked out. I turned, wondering what to do as I surveyed the common room – the broken pieces of the tea cup that still littered the floor, the bloody cloth that sat abandoned on the couch, the closed door that stood between me and my bondmate just like the heavy shields on our bond. The last decided it for me. I began cleaning up the small mess. It was a mindless task mostly and that’s exactly what I wanted. I knew I had to think, that I would have to face and deal with whatever was going on in Qui-Gon’s head, but not right now. Right now, I needed the few moments of simple emptiness I had remaining.

            I picked up the blood-stained rag and glanced at the closed door again. And just like that I knew my time was up.

            I dropped the rag and approached the door, my hand hovering over the entrance panel. This was not the Council Chambers nor was I heading to the executioner’s block. I was going to see my bondmate, my master, my best friend, my Qui-Gon, and he was hurting. I took a deep breath and touched the panel. The door slid open revealing a room limned in the multicolored lights of a Coruscanti night. A solitary figure sat on the bed with his back to the door. I moved towards the bed, taking a seat to Qui-Gon’s left but leaving a bit of space between us, something I normally wouldn’t have done. The distance hurt, but I knew whatever was eating away at Qui-Gon was far more painful, so I could endure this small pain with ease born of my love for the man.

            “Knight Vass?”

            “Gone,” I replied. Qui-Gon nodded.

            “I shall have to apologize again to her,” he said then he turned to finally face me. “And to you.”

            I met the gaze of those deep blue eyes easily, though it pained me to see the shadows reflected within them. I raised a hand to the older man’s face, my finger lightly touching then finally cradling his cheek.

            “Will you tell me?” I asked quietly. Qui-Gon didn’t answer immediately, only closed his eyes as he leaned into my touch. He stayed there a moment then pulled away, his eyes opening and staring out into the frenetic skyline. His shoulders were slumped slightly, curling inwards, his forearms resting on his thighs, his hands hanging limply between his knees. The posture, though subtle, would speak volumes to anyone who knew him. And no one knew him better than I did.

            “You know you can trust me with anything, Qui.” The older man’s head snapped around at my quiet statement, his brow creased, a budding frown playing on his thin lips.

            “I do, love,” he answered fervently. “I trust you with everything, my life, my love, with all that I am I trust you.”

            “Then why can’t you talk to me?” I asked my own brow knitting in confusion.

            “Because it’s not about trust. It is simply… difficult for me to,” he faltered, but I knew the man would find the words eventually. Qui-Gon always knew what to say, which is why I was surprised for the second time this evening when Qui-Gon gave up his search and growled in frustration.

            “This is ridiculous! What’s done is done and he’s dead besides. None of this should matter!”

            “But it does matter,” I argued placidly. To match Qui-Gon’s frustrated anger would only add to the negative emotions building rapidly in the Force. “It matters to you and that’s enough.”

            My words seemed to knock some of the fight out of him as his shoulders slumped once more and hands that had curled into fists once again hung limply in the air.

            “You’re wrong. It _shouldn’t_ matter but, as you pointed out, it is obvious that this still… affects me and that alone is enough to tell me that this must be dealt with.”

“And how do we do that?” I asked. A corner of Qui-Gon’s mouth quirked up at my choice of pronoun, but even the almost smile only lasted a moment.

            “We talk about it. I… will talk about it,” he said then he turned his gaze back to me. “But… tomorrow. I promise. I find that tonight I just want to be with my bondmate. Can we do that?”

            That question… that it had been asked warmed my heart, that it _needed_ to be asked made my heart ache. I gently took his hand in mine, smiling shyly.

            “Anything you want, beloved. Anything you need.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

            Morning found me easily and all too soon. Despite the comfort of the lithe and deliciously warm body snuggled in close against me, I had found sleep elusive and instead had spent much of the night staring at the ceiling and slipping into unwanted memories of Telran Drel.

            With some reluctance, I eased myself away from Obi-Wan, carefully lifting and repositioning the arm he had draped possessively over my chest. Obi-Wan frowned and stirred slightly at the manipulation, but I quickly placed two fingers at his temple, easing him back into a deep sleep with a mild Force suggestion. The frown on my knight’s face smoothed back into the soft slack of sleep and I gently pushed myself off the bed. Still clad in only my sleep pants, I wrapped myself in my robe, a dark blue, ludicrously soft number that Obi-Wan had gifted me with on my first nameday after we had become lovers.

            Belting the robe closed, I made my way to the kitchen and began preparing a pot of tea. I opened the cabinet to remove a tea bowl, my favorite, one of a 5-piece serving set purchased on Alderaan many years ago. My hand paused above the cups, now numbering only three. I pulled my hand away, turning my palm up as I did so. Dark red, angry lines traversed the calloused flesh like the markings left from a reading by an over-eager palmist.

            I closed the hand into a fist, temporarily hiding the healing cuts from my sight. I took in a slowing steadying breath, seeking my center and failing to find it. With a huff of frustration, I closed the cabinet door and ceased heating the water pot. The promise of tea no longer wanted. I drifted back into the common room and collapsed, rather gracelessly, into my armchair. I let my head fall back for a few moments as I stared at the ceiling and attempted to breath out my lingering discomfiture at recent events and my reactions to them.

            After a few silent minutes, I brought my head up, some semblance of my calm restored, and my eyes fell upon the low table… and on the bit of folded flimsi left by Knight Vass.

            Written for me.

            From Telran Drel.

            How long I sat staring at the seemingly innocuous little square, I did not know, but it was long enough for my sleep muzzled, bare foot, and bare chested bondmate to wander in from our bedroom. Strong arms crept over my shoulders, slipped over my chest, and wrapped loosely around me as warm breath tickled the skin by my left ear.

            “Good morning, beloved.”

            “Good morning, love,” I replied bringing one of my hands to cover the two clasped and resting on my chest. “Did you sleep well?”

 

            “I did,” Obi-Wan answered, “but I woke up alone.” He paused here, placing a kiss to my temple and bringing a smile to my lips. “Did you sleep at all?”

            My smile disappeared. I moved to stand, to escape his inquiry and his concern, but the arms around me tightened. It was not strength that held me in my seat, but instead the knowledge of who held me, the unspoken plea translated through his touch, was all it took to keep me from fleeing.

            “You promised,” was all he said. It was enough.

            “I did,” I answered. I opened my mouth to say more, to speak the tale he wanted to hear, but the words died in my throat. I was still tightly shielded against him, but I still could feel his hesitation and knew he could feel my increased unease. Thankfully, my Obi-Wan knew exactly what both of us needed.

            “I will make us some tea,” he stated then he gave me a gentle squeeze before he released me and made his way to the kitchen. He was using the time to let me center myself and gather my thoughts and I was grateful for it. By the time he returned with two cups of tea, I had, at least, calmed myself again. He handed me my cup, thankfully not one of the broken set, and I took a long sip. The heat of it burned my tongue, but I did not care. The feel of it traveling down my throat, warming my body along its path more than made up for the minor pain of singed taste buds.

            Obi-Wan waited patiently, saying nothing, though the quiet look he gave me was expectant. I lowered my cup, cradling it between my hands. I stared at its dark contents searching for inspiration and finding none.

            “I don’t know where to start.”

            “My master always told me that it is often best to start at the beginning,” he replied. Despite my mood, I felt my lips quirk in a little smile.

            “That sounds like wise advice.”

            “My master is a wise man.”

            “Not so wise, at least not recently,” I murmured with more than a touch of bitterness in my voice. I would have continued to sit there in silence, brooding (for there was really no other word for it) but Obi-Wan was determined to get this out between us.

            “How did you meet Master Drel? Was it here at the Temple?”

            A simple question that only called for a simple answer, a gambit designed to ease me into my story. It was a well-played move. A technique I had taught him, and I spared myself a moment of pride before responding.

            “As you may remember from your time in the crèche, it is not uncommon for masters, knights, or even the occasional padawan to spend time among the initiates. Tel,” I choked then swallowed thickly as my words seemed to physically catch in my throat. “Telran Drel spent much of his time in Temple observing the Tra’cor clan, my clan. He took an…interest… in me.”

            I did not look up while I spoke. I could not. If I did, if I looked into Ob-Wan’s eyes and saw pity there… I lifted my cup and took a sip of my tea. It was cooling, but still warm. It did not soothe me as the first taste had, but it served as a welcomed distraction and a minor balm to the silence that had fallen.

            “He… hurt you?”

            The question was tentative. Hesitant. So, unlike the usual voice of my beloved. It forced me to look up. The expression on his face was a mixture of incredulity and confusion. He was hoping that he had misunderstood what I said and what I had not said. And he feared what I was going to say next. We both did.

            “He did,” I managed to say without fumbling over the words. A small miracle.

            I watched as Obi-Wan’s expression shifted, incredulity eclipsing confusion after two slow blinks.

            “How…” he began, then he swallowed and tried again. “How old were you?”

            “Nine, when it started. Ten before I found the courage to say something.”

            I watched as his expression shifted again. Incredulity fell away and what took its place was something I had never before seen on him.

            Rage.

            My own discomfit fell away in the face of his righteous indignation. I leaned forwards in my chair reaching out a hand to place on his knee, a mirror of the anchor he had now twice offered me.

            “Obi-Wan…”

            Eyes turned on me. Eyes that were usually an ocean-kissed blue-gray now burned with slate gray fire.

            “What did they do?” he asked. His voice was low, deadly, cold, so unlike his naturally warm tenor. I did not have to ask who “they” were. But just as I knew what he was really asking, I also knew the answer I would give him was not the one he wanted to hear.

            “Obi-Wan…”

            “What did they DO?” he shouted. Despite my rank, despite my experience, despite my intent, I flinched under the oppressive weight of his anger. Without thinking I pulled my hand away, falling back into my chair. He followed me back, rising from his place on the coach and towering over me.

            “Tell me, Qui-Gon. Tell me what they did!”

            “Nothing!” I yelled back at him.

            “Nothing,” he repeated, his voice deceptively calm and flat. Cold. He nodded once at me, then again as he straightened and moved away from my chair. He walked over to the balcony doors and just stood there, staring out into early morning Coruscanti traffic. I sat in my chair, pressed hard against its back, my hands clutching the arm rests like a man hanging over a precipice. Perhaps I was. We both were I think. I needed to move. I needed to go to him, but I was paralyzed, frozen in my skin, my own voice echoing in my ears.

            Nothing.

            “I’m angry.” It was his voice that freed me, that spured me to movement. I pushed myself out of my chair and crossed the short distance to where he stood staring at the glass, seeing nothing. I stood behind him, not quite touching him, not quite sure if my touch is welcome in the midst of his rage. I raised my hand and reached for him. My hand hovered just behind his shoulder, almost touching. But fear won out and my hand fell to my side.

            “I want… I want to tear pieces from him,” he said still looking straight ahead. “From him, from the Council, from everyone who let this happen.” He turned to me then and his eyes stormy, their appearance glassy from rain yet to fall. “I’m so angry and I don’t know what to do with it.”

            I did reach out then. I touched his cheek using the back of hand. Just the barest brushing, a simple touch of understanding because I _did_ understand.

“I know this feeling. I know it all too well. And I know that holding on to it will only bring more pain. You have to let it go, love,” I told him this because I knew I was right. He knew it too but before he could heed my advice his pain lashed out striking the most convenient of targets.

            “You haven’t,” he snapped and immediately I could tell he regretted it. His eyes widened, their color shifting back towards blue. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Qui-Gon, I’m so sorry. I…”

            “Speak the truth,” I said silencing him with both my words and a single finger placed on his lips. “You are right, love. I am still angry. I thought… For so long, I thought the anger was behind me, relegated to the past where it belongs, but it’s not. Last night drives that home rather pointedly.”

            Obi-Wan, Force bless him, stepped into me. He pulled open my robe and pressed himself against me, his hands wrapping tightly around my waist. I wrapped my arms around him, enfolding us both within the warmth of my robe. The skin to skin contact eliciting a deep sigh from me and echoed by him.

            “How could he do that to a child? He was a Jedi. And how could the Council let him go unpunished?” he asked in a voice that makes he seem very young, his words muffled against my chest.

            “I don’t know the answer to that, at least to the first of it,” I answer matching his innocence with honesty. “I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t spent a great deal of time and meditation wondering that very thing. But there is a darkness within each of us and many times it is much closer to the surface than we think.” I shrugged not knowing what more I could say on a question for which I had no answer.

            “As for the Council, there was no proof. I was a child. He was a master. I had no proof and he denied everything. Some pushed for a mind probe, but I was too young, and he was a Filkurien and immune to telepathic scans.”

            “They were supposed to protect you,” came the mumbled protest.

            “They tried. They did. It took me a while to believe it, but I have come to understand that there was nothing they could do. I have made my peace with that, my usual interactions with the Council aside.” The joke fell poorly, but the quiet huff beneath my chin told me the effort was appreciated. “I was certain all of this was behind me, but the moment I heard his name…”

            “You wanted to break him into little bits and stomp on the tender pieces?”

            I looked down to find myself being watched by a face with sea-colored eyes. There was a hint of an impish grin on that face as well. My mouth curved up a bit to match.

            “The thought had occurred to me.”

            “What do we do now?” he asked all humor gone, but thankfully I saw no anger or sadness take its place. The smooth panes of his expression conveyed only openness, concern, and love. I tightened the arms I had around his waist pulling him close to body, his warmth and skin continuing to ease the knots of tension still coiled in my spirit. I looked at him, my eyes matching the love shining in his own.

            “What we do now is have firstmeal.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

            Surprisingly, firstmeal was a pleasant affair. I had not expected that after the emotional turmoil of the past few hours. When Qui-Gon finally told me how he knew Telran Drel… Even now I had to actively let go of the burning, razor sharp fury that welled up from my core and pushed against my calm center seeking to displace it at just the thought of what that… being had done. But then I could look across the table at Qui-Gon, could see the powerful Jedi Master he was, the passionate and compassionate man he was, and know that that man’s darkness had never touched who Qui-Gon was. Drel had hurt him, yes. His actions had wounded him, wounds that were still in some ways healing, but he had not broken him, not tainted him, and, ultimately, not changed him. Not in any ways that mattered. Drel had left a scar, but to my eyes, the tiny imperfection was just a part of the greater, perfect whole of the man I loved.

            Qui-Gon picked up his cup and drank the last of his tea. After the tense moments by the balcony doors, we both chose to don more clothing but still opted for the simple comfort of soft pants and tunics, no boots. The bond was still closed between us, but he was calmer now than he had been since Knight Vass’s visit. My brow wrinkled as I pushed a square chunk of fruit around my plate. That still didn’t make sense to me. Why had Drel chosen Qui-Gon of all people to speak at his memorial? Surely, he knew the man, Jedi or not, would not have warm feelings for him. Was it the last act of a man who, facing his own mortality, had reached back for the Light and wanted to make amends? Or was it instead one last attempt to hurt someone he had enjoyed hurting before?

            As if drawn by a magnet, my eyes drifted away from my plate and on to the low table of the common room. The sealed letter was just where he had left it. Unopened and untouched.

            “You can read it if you want.”

            The quiet voice brought my head around in a snap so fast I nearly caused myself some injury.

            “W-what?” I stammered ineloquently. Qui-Gon sat his empty cup down, his expression as serene as ever.

            “I said that you could read it, if that’s what you want.”

            “But don’t you want to read it? Aren’t you at least curious about what it says? Why he sent it?”

            Qui-Gon shook his head, his loose hair slipping further over his shoulders.

            “Even if it has any answers, and I’m not sure it does, it would not have the answers I seek. Only I can provide those, and I will, in time,” he replied with a rueful smile. “But if you need answers of your own, I will not stop you from seeking them.”

            I opened my mouth to speak then closed it again as I realized I did not know what I wanted to say. Did I want to read it? The more I thought about it, the more I realized that, like Qui-Gon, the answers I truly wanted were unlikely to be found written on that piece of flimsi. I picked up the fruit square I had previously abandoned and popped it into my mouth letting its flavor burst on to my tongue.

            “No, I don’t need to read it.”

            Qui-Gon didn’t speak, but he did smile, the first to truly reach his eyes this morning. Even better, I felt him ease the wall he had placed between us as the shields around the bond thinned and I could feel him once again in my mind.

            _/Missed you./_ I sent to him. My sending was met with a wave of emotion crested back to me. I felt some sadness, some pride, but most of all I felt love.

            _/I’m sorry./_

            “I’ll clean this up and then maybe we could meditate together?” I answered, mentally waving off his apology. Qui-Gon nodded as he began to rise from his seat.

            “I would like that,” he said but before he could take a step the main door chimed signaling the arrival of another visitor. A flare of anxiety arced across the bond though I was unsure whether it was Qui-Gon’s or my own. We shared a brief glance, each seeking reassurance and both finding it in the other. Qui-Gon moved to the door and waved it open. He stepped immediately to one side as a small figure hobbled through the doorway.

            “Master Yoda,” he said giving the venerated Jedi a deep bow. I stood from my place at the table and gave a formal bow of my own.

            “Master Yoda. We just finished breaking our fast, but if you would like something I could,”

            “Unnecessary that is. Not long will I stay,” the ancient Jedi grumbled as he continued his slow walk to the center of the common room. I shot Qui-Gon a questioning look which he answered with a shrug then he stepped ahead and around the smaller master and retrieved a Yoda-sized chair from the corner where they kept it in anticipation of such visits. He placed the chair opposite the sofa and Yoda gave him an appreciative grunt as he took the proffered seat. Qui-Gon and I then took seats on the sofa across from him.

“Master?” Qui-Gon asked.

            “Heard you had a visit yesterday I did.”

            “Yes, Master.”

            “Concerned I was,” Yoda replied then he looked at me and added, “but well-cared for you are I see.”

            I reached for Qui-Gon’s hand and held it in my own. I turned my gaze to my bondmate then to the smaller master.

            “He is, Master Yoda. Never fear.”

            “Hmm,” Yoda hummed then he turned his gimlet gaze back on Qui-Gon. “Spoken to Knight Vass I would have if known of her intentions I had.”

            “Then you know why she came, what she asked of me?” Qui-Gon questioned, his voice calm and even.

            “Know I do.”

            “Why?” Qui-Gon pressed all calm and evenness gone in the blink of an eye. “Why would he do that? Why me?”

            “Know that I do not. Fixated on you he has always been. Explain this I cannot. Explain this only Drel can.”

            My eyes fell back upon the folded flimsi letter at Master Yoda’s words. Apparently, my change in focus did not go unnoticed as Master Yoda seemed to read my thoughts clearly.

            “Explain it did he?”

            “He left this letter. Knight Vass passed it on to me as Drel directed.”

            “Read it you have not.”

            “I have not.”

            “Why?”

“There is nothing to be gained in doing so,” Qui-Gon replied flatly. Yoda’s ears lowered slightly. Not a good sign I knew.

            “Know this you do, hmm? Talented you must be to know this without reading I think.”

            “Master Yoda,” I tried to interject, but the ancient little Jedi would not be deterred.

            “Yours to answer this is not,” he snapped at me, his sharp words punctuated with a sharp clack of his gimer stick against the table top. He turned his attention back to Qui-Gon. “Answers you seek yet answers you avoid. Embrace ignorance you do. Why?”

            “There is nothing that letter can say that I need to read. I need no answers from him. I need nothing from him and he will have nothing from me.”

“Ah,” Yoda replied sagely. “Chosen not to speak you have at this evening’s service.”

            “Of course not.”

            “Speak you should. Great honor it is. Noticed it will be,” the elder master replied mildly. Qui-Gon’s mouth fell open in shock and the master was temporarily rendered speechless, a state in which I had rarely seen him. He recovered quickly.

            “Noticed or not, I will not do it.”

            “Master Yoda,” I interceded carefully. “With all due respect, that is a lot to ask of him, of anyone. To speak of Remembrance at someone’s Memorial Ceremony is to speak of the Light and good in them that they shared with others. I do not presume to say that Telran Drel had no Light or good in him, but my master never had a chance to see it. Drel only showed him his darkness and that is not what people want to hear at times like this.”

            “Presume you do not, you say, but presume much you do.”

            “Master,” Qui-Gon started, but Yoda continued as if he did not hear him.

            “Ended the war on Belantin, Master Drel did. Brought four hundred refugees to safety from a colony on Gravner III when they were beset upon by Black Sun slavers. Thwarted an assassination attempt he did when threatened the crown prince of Arranor Seti was. Many great things has Master Drel done. Much good has he done. Many friends he had.”

            “Then ask one of them,” Qui-Gon snarled. I tightened my grip on his hand and sent a wave of calm and love across the bond. There was no immediate response, but eventually I felt my hand squeezed briefly in return.

            “If you want someone to speak of love and Light and Telran Drel, ask someone else,” Qui-Gon began his voice lower and more controlled than before. “I can only speak of what I know, and what I know is his darkness.”

            “Asked to glorify Drel, you were not,” Yoda said as he eased from his seat and began to hobble to the door. “Asked to remember him, you were. Memories are both good and bad, darkness and light. Perhaps it is finally time for people to know both, hmm.”

            The door slid closed behind him leaving Qui-Gon and me sitting in stunned silence. After a few moments, I was able to recover at least some of my senses. Qui-Gon, on the other hand, was immobile, still staring at the empty space left by the grandmaster’s abrupt departure. I gave him a little tug on the hand I still held.

            “I think we’re ready for the meditation now.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

            I emerged from meditation first allowing me to steal a few quiet minutes to watch Obi-Wan as he sat bathed in the warm midday light of Corusant’s yellow sun as it streamed through the glass of the balcony doors. For his meditation, he had chosen to remove his tunic, a decision I had not given much thought to… until now.

            Obi-Wan’s skin was made for sunlight. The way the light settled on his skin, raising freckles, casting shadows at the curve of his collar bones, highlighting the dusting of golden hair on his chest, and the trail of hair that ran much further down. In any light within the human visible spectrum, Obi-Wan was beautiful. In sunlight, he was a god.

            Golden lashes fluttered for the space of one heartbeat then lids lifted to reveal serene blue-gray eyes.

            “Qui-Gon.”

           “So beautiful,” I heard myself murmur. Obi-Wan’s expression took on an odd look and then a furious blush, the brightest spots creating rosy colors high on his freckled cheeks and the tips of his ears. My Obi-Wan always took compliments with difficulty.

            “If I am it is only so I can match your handsomeness,” he replied his tone shy but earnest. As if compelled to do so, I reached out and caressed his cheek. He leaned into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening them again at the sound of my voice.

            “You know I disagree with you on that regard,” I said quietly as I continued to stroke the downy soft beard. “But when you say it, I find myself almost believing.”

            “Then I will say it every day, a thousand times a day, until you believe it,” he replied. Sweet words from equally sweet mobile lips. I leaned into him then, unable to resist my beautiful knight’s siren call. Our lips touched, just a chaste passing at first then again, and again, hastening, hardening, hungering. His lips parted, welcoming, inviting. I plunged inside the warm, wet cavern of his mouth with my tongue, darting and touching and tasting. I retreated, and his tongue followed me back to the confines of my own mouth, demanding and desperate, conquering territory of its own. Want of air finally forced us to relinquish our kiss, and we parted, lips swollen and panting.

            “Obi-Wan…” I whispered. A question, an answer, a plea. He touched my face, stroked my beard.

            “I know, beloved. I know.” And he did. He has often known me better than I know myself. “Tell me, Qui-Gon. Tell me what you want.”

            “You…” I croaked out from a suddenly constricted throat. “I want you.”

            A mischievous smile played across his lips as his eyes dilated with barely checked passion.

            “And so, you shall have me,” he said. He moved to stand gently pulling me with him. We moved blindly, but sensuously together towards our bedroom as if we were marking the steps of a familiar dance. My knees bumped against the edge of the sleep couch and I fell back onto the soft comforter. Obi-Wan, never releasing his hold on me, fell with me landing on top of me, a glorious weight on my chest. Our erections ground together pulling a hiss from both of us at the unexpected contact.

            “Too many clothes,” he panted, and I grunted in agreement, incapable of speech. He pulled away from me and stood between my parted knees. He pushed his thin trousers down to his ankles, taking with them his small clothes. He stepped out of the discarded clothing, kicking it away with a flick of a foot. He stood there, his straining erection proud and angry and beginning to leak his desire in small pearly drops. Then his hands were on me, tugging at my own pants, pulling them down my long legs as I lift my hips in assistance. I sat up pulling my tunic over my head in one smooth motion. In seconds, we were both naked and I was lying back, trembling in anticipation. I wanted him, wanted to touch him, wanted to devour him, wanted to be devoured by him. I wanted…

            “I know,” he said answering my unvoiced thoughts. His hands were back on me, traveling down the length of my rangy, too tall body, the touch of each finger sending jolts of lightening straight to my groin. I moaned as skilled and nimble fingers pinched and pulled at my nipples simultaneously. I reached for him, struggling to touch him anywhere I could reach, but he stopped me. He took my arms and planted them by my sides.

            “Not yet, beloved. Just lay back and let me love you. Let me show you how handsome you are, how loved you are.”

            I obeyed though it was a struggle as he resumed his tactile perambulations. I was moaning, trembling, and thoroughly wrecked and he hadn’t even touched my cock. I was nearly undone from his steady, fleeting fingers on my skin, and judging by the impish glint in his eyes, he knew it.

_/Please…/_ I begged yet I didn’t know exactly what I was begging for, but Obi-Wan knew. He always knew. He brought his mouth to hover over my cock, its head nearly purple and leaking with need. A warm breath ghosted over the tip causing me to shiver.

_/Please./_ I begged again and suddenly I was encased in the warm, wet heat of that wonderful, talented mouth. He nibbled and sucked at me greedily, contented as a child with a lolly. I tried to stay still as he commanded. I did, but that mouth… Stars that above, that mouth! My hands found their way to his head, gripping his fiery red hair, encouraging but not directing. He slowed his pace, opening his throat and taking me down to the root. I bucked up against him. I was dangerously close, too close. I pulled at him then and he released his sucking hold on me, my cock springing clear of his mouth with an utterly obscene pop.

            Obi-Wan stretched out a hand and I felt the Force stir as the bottle of oil we kept by our bedside flew into his grasp. He rose then and started to move on to the bed beside me, but I halted him with a word.

            “No.”

            “No?” he repeated confusion etched in the wrinkling of his brow. I sat up, my hands gripping his waist as I pulled him closer to me.

            “I want you in me. I want you to fill me up. Fill me, Obi-love. Show me how much you love me.”

            “Yes,” he whispered and through the bond I could feel he is unaccountably moved by my words. “Lie back,” he instructed me, his voice unsteady with lust. Again, I obeyed him, but this time obedience came easily. He knelt between my legs, tugging my hips forward and closer to the edge of the bed. I heard the bottle open and, after a moment, felt the tip of one slender, oiled finger circling the tight bundle of nerves at my entrance. He only teased the small pucker for a moment and then he pushed inside pulling a gratifying moan from the core of me. He moved in and out of me for several thrusts and, seeing that I took it easily, he retreated withdrawing the single finger and returning with another. I moved against him, lifting my hips in tiny, rotating movements, riding his fingers in unabashed pleasure.

_/So handsome. So beautiful to see you like this, opening for me./_

            I growled at him, wanting more. He obliged and suddenly the fingers were gone. I opened eyes I hadn’t known I closed and beheld a sight that caught my breath. Obi-Wan, stood between my legs, stroking his own heavy cock, his hand glistening with oil. He loosed a moan at the touch of his own hand and then his eyes found mine and the air sparked between us.

_/Now, love./_

_/Yes./_

            I raised my legs, pulling my knees to my chest. He leaned forward, guiding his not insubstantial girth to my loosened hole. I felt the blunt head of his cock press against my anus and then he pushed in, moving past the tight ring of muscle with only a little resistance. I whimpered then, or he did, I couldn’t tell. He continued his slow glide into the depths of me until he was buried to the hilt, his balls flush against my ass.

            “Gods Qui, so tight. So good.”

            “Obi-Wan,” I moaned. I wanted to say more, but all thought fled me as he pulled nearly all the way out and then slammed back into me brushing against my prostate. The movement sent a bolt of pleasure surging through my body, flooding every nerve with a shock of pure bliss from my hair to my toes. “Yes!” I cried, and he pulled out and slammed in again, unerringly hitting the bundle of nerves. Within a dozen thrusts, I was cursing and howling and thrashing against the sheets. He leaned down to me, seizing my mouth with a demanding kiss. His tongue plundered my mouth, ruthlessly searching and exploring every nook and cranny, claiming it for his own. I chased him with my tongue, dueling with him for territory. Then he broke the kiss and pulled back to standing. He lifted one of my legs, placing it over his shoulder changing the angle and providing himself more leverage. He wrapped one hand around my cock, fisting it in time with his thrusts. My hands grabbed the sheets as I fought to hold myself back from the rapidly approaching apex of our lovemaking, but another strike to my prostate and I was lost.

            I called out his name as I spilled myself over his hand and on to my own chest and stomach. One, two, three more thrusts and then he poured himself into me with a groan series of sounds that might have been my name before stilling himself, his hips tight against my upraised ass. We both remained frozen for several heartbeats, shudders running through us as we rode the aftershocks of our orgasms.

            Eventually, Obi-Wan lowered my leg to the floor. He then pulled his softening cock out of me causing us both another shudder. He crawled onto the bed on trembling arms, collapsing beside me. I turned my head, needing to see him, wanting to hold him but unable to move in my post-orgasmic bliss. Splendid blue-gray eyes stared into mine.

            “I love you.”

            “I love you too,” he replied breathlessly. “That was… I don’t have a word for it.”

            “Mmm,” was my only answer. Obi-Wan chuckled.

            “Well said, my master. Well-said.”

            “Obi-Wan, I think… I think we should go to the memorial.”

            Immediately, the lazy, well-fucked look was gone from his face and a seriously concerned one had taken its place. He turned on to his side to look at me more clearly.

            “You can’t be serious,” he exclaimed. I turned on my side to face him as well, propping my head up on one elbow.

            “I think… I think Master Yoda is right. Despite what Drel did to me, he has done a great deal of good for many others in the name of the Light and the Order.”

            “That does not excuse what he did.”

            “No, it doesn’t. But it doesn’t change what he’s done since either,” I replied. The deep furrows in his brow and the disquiet along the bond told me he was far from convinced. I reached out with my free hand and took one of his in mine. “A great number of people respect and admire him, Obi-Wan. They deserve to keep their memories of him and the inspiration he may have caused should still be honored.”

            “You do better to honor _them_ by giving them the truth,” he answered harshly. I sighed then, part of me agreeing with him. I lowered my gaze to our clasped hands.

            “Perhaps,” I admitted. “But I find I lack the courage to share such truth.”

            “Maybe,” he started then hesitated. I looked up at him to find him biting his lower lip.

            “What is it, love?”

            “Maybe… maybe you should read the letter.”

            I gave it serious thought. Earlier, I thought that letter would hold no answers for me, but perhaps Obi-Wan was right. As it was, I did need answers and that was the only stone still left unturned. I gave his hand a squeeze.

            “ _We_ shall read it,” I said. The worry was still there, but a wave of shy pleasure and affection traveled across the bond. Without another word, we both rose and padded, still naked and hand in hand, to the common room. We reached the low table, and I leaned down to pick up the seemingly innocuous piece of flimsi. Not wanting to release his hand, my anchor, for a moment, I used a touch of Force to break the seal and open the mysterious missive.

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

            “Are you certain?”

            I had asked him this question at least half a dozen times since we left our apartment and each time he answered with the same simple, unsatisfying answer.

            “No.”

            And yet we kept going. No other talking than my short question and his short answer. The funeral chamber lay ahead. The sound of whispering voices and the whisks of heavy cloaks created a muted susurration that reached us even in the hall. Here, Qui-Gon came to a slow stop just outside the open double doors. We had both come to the great chamber cloaked and hooded, our hands tucked into our sleeves. Standing there at the threshold we both took a deep breath. Without thinking, I reached out my hand only to find Qui-Gon reaching for mine. We stood there another moment, holding hands. I did not ask him my question again.

            I already knew the answer.

 

**FIN**

 


End file.
